


A Year of Flowers

by zacekova



Series: That Thulaz Fantasy AU [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, First Kiss, Flirting, Flowers, Fluff, Getting Together, Historical Fantasy, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Prequel, Romance, Shotor Week 2018, Teenagers, background allurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 02:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16525892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zacekova/pseuds/zacekova
Summary: Thace was wrong. Lotor was definitelynotcharming or prepared enough to woo anyone yet.





	1. Sparring

**Author's Note:**

> Gosh, I am so excited for this you guys. I have so much backstory in my head for almost everyone in this AU and the Shotor relationship is my favorite! For those of you here because of Shotor Week - in case it isn’t quite clear in the text - all you need to know is that this takes place in a historical fantasy AU where everyone is human, Shiro is from Altea which is allied with the Galra Empire, and Crown Prince Lotor has recently arrived in Altea as the newest ambassador for the Empire. 
> 
> Also, everyone’s young right now - Shiro is 18, Lotor is 19, and Allura and Lance are about 15 - and I tried really hard to make that obvious because awkward, silly, teenage!Shotor flirting was just too good an opportunity to pass up. 
> 
> ENJOY THE FLUFF!

Lotor breathed in deep - the crisp, cool spring air tingling in his lungs - and exhaled. He twirled his sword around his palm, the sharpened steel whistling softly through the air as the sun broke past the high walls of Altea’s palace and bathed him in golden heat.

His opponent blinked in the sudden glare - even pale as it was that early in the morning - and adjusted his grip on the hilt of his sword.

Lotor’s grin was all teeth as he rocked his weight up onto the balls of his feet and _lunged_.

Their blades crashed together, echoing through the courtyard and quickly lost in the discordant, chaotic symphony of dozens of other pairs and groups doing just the same, shouting and groaning during morning training. Lotor danced with his opponent, dodging and weaving around the arc of his sword and his hasty charges, and clashing blades when he could do neither. It was swift and brilliant and _fun_ , but it was also _easy_ , too easy; his opponent didn’t have the skill to provide a proper challenge.

It was over inside a minute. His opponent flung his sword arm out, leaving himself wide open, and Lotor flicked his blade up to the man’s vulnerable throat. “Dead,” he said, grinning.

The man - the Altean soldier - stood frozen for the span of a great heaving breath, then another, before his shoulders drooped and he chuckled. “Yeah, figures. Had to try, though.” He dropped his arms and stepped away from Lotor’s sword, sheathing his own before pressing his hands together and dipping into a low bow. “Thank you for the bout, Your Highness.” And then he turned away and was absorbed into the watching crowd amidst hearty slaps and playful words.

Lotor slid his own sword home and peered around, hoping for another volunteer to step forward for a spar. Surely there was someone here who valued a challenge more than their pride, even if no one could match him in skill? He hadn’t even broken a sweat with the last one.

As if echoing his thoughts, a man peeled himself away from the tiny, roiling mass of observing soldiers and approached with a friendly smile. “You’ve been trained well, Ambassador,” he said, the edges of the tattoos under his eyes crinkling into well-worn laugh lines. “Especially considering your age. I’m afraid there aren’t many in Altea who could hope to best you, and most of them rarely train anywhere but the royal family’s field.”

Lotor propped a hand on his hip and returned a rueful smile. “I feared as much. King’s do take great pride in private spaces and master tutors for their progeny.”

The soldier - a low-ranking officer of some sort, if Lotor remembered the markings of Altea’s uniforms rightly - chuckled, crossing his arms and gesturing toward the far corner of the field with a tilt of his head. “Try over there. The Captain usually trains here in the mornings, the Ancients know why when he has access to the royal’s grounds.”

Lotor’s brow furrowed. “Which captain?”

The officer chuckled again. “You’ll know him when you see him,” he said, turning away and waving over his shoulder. “He draws a crowd.”

Well that was rather vague.

Lotor rolled his shoulders, tipping his head back and peering up at the pale blue sky for a moment before heading off in the direction the old soldier had gestured, a corner of the training grounds still shrouded in the cool shadows of the castle walls. Straw and leather mannequins were spaced at even intervals against the stonework and racks of weapons stood off to the side, but in a clear space, wedged between the wall and a stack of crude shields, was a passel of onlookers. Their eyes were shining with wonder and respect, and some of the men exchanged hushed whispers in awed and speculative tones. Lotor skirted around them to get a look at what _they_ were looking at, and froze.

 _He’s…_ _gorgeous_. _Oh quiznak._

The man wielded a battle axe - long and slender with a small hook opposite the blade - and moved slowly through fighting forms. His control was perfect - steady and smooth as he swung the weapon in graceful arcs, the muscles in his arms and his back and his thighs rippling. His black hair was cut short except for a long, white tuft that hung over his forehead, the damp strands sticking to his skin, and his dark eyes were fierce and confident. He looked young, though, possibly even younger than Lotor, and yet it did nothing to detract from how utterly captivating he was.

Lotor watched him - mouth dry and skin hot - as he eased his way through his forms, hardly daring to blink lest he miss another breathtaking display of strength and control.

The man came to a standstill a few minutes later, inhaling slow and deep, and then exhaling the same way. He straightened and lifted his arm to slide his axe into the holster over his back.

Lotor shook himself internally and swallowed, mustering up the nerve to make his way over to the empty space the soldier had commandeered before he could leave. He gave him a slow, cataloguing once over, hoping the heat in his cheeks wasn’t obvious. “You’re quite skilled with that,” he said, nodding to the weapon peeking up over the man’s shoulder. “Care for a spar?”

The man‘s eyes traveled over him in a leisurely manner - lingering on Lotor’s willowy arms and polished armor - and quirked an unimpressed brow. “I’m not sure you can handle it.”

Lotor chuckled, tension dissipating in the face of a challenge; he’d long gotten used to being underestimated, and proving someone wrong about his skill never failed to get his blood surging with confidence. He pulled his sword out and twirled it around a few times in dramatic fashion. “We shall see.’

The soldier grinned, bright and eager, and mirrored him, crouching low and pulling out his axe. “Alright then. I’m Shiro, by the way,” he said, bouncing lightly up onto the balls of his feet and rocking back down onto his heels. His gaze was sharp, calculating, sweeping over Lotor’s frame from leather boots to bright blue eyes - evaluating every step of his feet and every swing of his blade.

“Lotor,” Lotor said, circling and watching Shiro in the same way, looking for tells, weaknesses, tricks.

Shiro’s eyes widened and he grinned again, sharper. “Haven’t fought a prince before,” he said, a silent, subtle coil of tension starting in his toes and rippling all the way up to his shoulders. “I’m not going to hold back!” he shouted, lunging.

Lotor darted to the side, rotating to face him, and sucked in a surprised breath at the rush of air from Shiro’s axe sweeping in front of him. It had been awhile since he’d faced a battle axe - that kind of ferocity and chaos. He’d have to take his time with this one, at first.

They separated again, circling each other once more, and spent the next minute or two feeling each other out, learning each other’s styles. One of them would rush in for a quick exchange of blows, then slip back again, and Lotor stayed cautious, darting in and away from the heavy, brutal sweep of Shiro’s axe.

But once they got going, it got _fast_ , heart-pounding and dangerous and _thrilling_. Shiro was _good_ , quick and strong with solid technique. But there was no consistency, nothing for Lotor to _plan_ for. Shiro slid between a dozen different styles like a fish through water, combatting Lotor’s own style and moves on what seemed like instinct alone. Forget the battle axe, _specifically_ , it had been a long time since Lotor had fought _anyone_ this skilled.

Sweat was dripping off his brow and into his eyes by the time Shiro stepped back and straightened, letting his axe fall to his side.

“Okay,” Shiro panted. “I’m done. I need a break.”

Around them, the soldiers gave some merry whoops and cheers and then started talking amongst themselves about the fight, drifting away now that the show was over.

Lotor doubled over, hands on his knees, and heaved for breath before flopping to the ground on his back. “You,” he wheezed, “are an _exceptional_ opponent. Where has Alfor been hiding you during my previous visits?”

Shiro laughed and plopped down onto the dirt next to him, holstering his axe and leaning back on his palms. “I caught the King’s eye while training with my father a couple of years ago. I’ve been the Princess's bodyguard ever since. Before that I was just another trainee.”

Lotor hummed, lungs still burning, and turned to face him. “I doubt you were ever _just_ anything. Not if you were hand picked as the Princess’s bodyguard.”

Shiro shrugged. “Alright, so I’m pretty good. But back then I wasn’t important enough to have garnered the attention of the Crown Prince of the Galra Empire.”

“I must respectfully disagree,” Lotor said, curving his lips into an unmistakably filthy grin. “I would  _lavish_ you with attention until dawn, if you’d like.”

Shiro blushed up to the tips of his ears and looked away, brow furrowed and mouth opening and closing a few times. Then he shoved up to his feet and started marching away.

Lotor’s stomach dropped, swamped with the urgent need to snatch his words out of the air and clutch them to his chest, but before he could say anything Shiro paused and glanced over his shoulders.

“Ask me with a bit more class next time, and maybe I’ll think about it,” he said, tone serious even as his gaze traveled over Lotor again, cautious but unmistakably curious. And then he really did stride off toward the showers, shoulders straight and strong.

Lotor blinked, stomach a little less heavy with a new spark of hope and uncertainty lightening it, and ducked his face to hide a flush.

Okay. Maybe he hadn’t ruined his chances after all.


	2. Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ridiculously long compared to the others.

He found Shiro in exactly the same place the following morning, hoarfrost crunching beneath his boots as he moved through his forms. It was like watching a lion, those maned beasts from the south where the grass grew tall and brown, and dried as crisp as old parchment by midsummer. The females - the hunters - would stalk through the fields on velvet paws, silent and low to the earth, and then _move,_ swift and fierce and _dangerous_. They leaped from the ground with terrifying grace, all claws and teeth and hungry eyes, maws sinking in and crunching through the fragile skin and bones of their prey.

Breathtaking.

Lotor stood by and watched, hoping the admiration and attraction he held for this gorgeous, powerful creature before him wasn’t written all over his face. And yet, at the same time, surprisingly unconcerned if it were; Shiro was magnificent, after all, and it wasn’t like Lotor was the only one staring.

Shiro finished up a moment later and looked up straight into Lotor’s eyes. He paused - axe half-holstered - for a breathless moment before moving again, this time striding across the empty space between them and stopping in front of Lotor. He folded his arms across his chest and raised an imperious brow. “Can I help you, Ambassador?”

Lotor, his face warm - though whether it was from his embarrassment over his actions the day before or from Shiro’s brilliant, striking display, he couldn’t say - tore his gaze away from Shiro’s piercing one, and dipped into a low bow. “I wanted to apologize for my forwardness yesterday morning, I was boorish and juvenile. I hope you can forgive me.”

Silence reigned for a long, agonizing moment, and then broke with a soft snort of laughter. Lotor peeked up to see Shiro smiling down at him in mild amusement and a touch of bewilderment.

“You didn’t need to be so formal,” Shiro said, rocking his weight onto one hip. “A simple ‘sorry I was an ass’ would have sufficed.”

“I wished for there to be no dispute over my sincerity,” Lotor said, straightening.

Shiro chuckled. “Well, I got the message. You’re forgiven.”

“Forgiven enough to let me repeat my request in a more gentlemanly manner?” Lotor asked, the words diving out of his mouth before his cowardice could lunge out of his throat, snatch them out of the air, and swallow them back. Sweat pooled at the base of his spine, blood rushing in his ears as his lungs seized on an indrawn breath and held it tight in anticipation.

Shiro’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

“I truly would like to court you,” Lotor continued, hardly above a whisper - so soft that the lingering crowd probably couldn’t hear, but the way he thrust forward the bouquet of anemones he’d held behind his back the whole time likely gave him away. “Properly. I’d like the chance to prove that your first impression of me is not a true representation of my character. And the chance to get to know _you_.”

Shiro reached out with his free hand to wrap his fingers around the fragile stems - his hand was rough with callouses and so warm that the brush of his fingers against Lotor’s sent a spark of spider-webbing tingles across his skin - and looked down at the delicate flowers with a tiny, perfect smile. “These are beautiful,” he said, peering up at Lotor through his lashes. “But… would it be alright if I took some time to think about it first?”

Lotor swallowed, heart fluttering in his chest like panicked butterfly wings, and managed to choke out a rushed “Of course, as long as you need,” and his voice only rasped a little.

“Thanks,” Shiro said, dipping his head and then starting to back away toward the entrance to the training grounds. “I’ll see you around?”

Lotor nodded, not trusting his traitorous voice to come out steady anymore, not until he’d reminded it that it was no longer grating its awkward way through puberty.

Shiro smiled again, bright and sincere, and turned and jogged away.

Oh Ancients. Thace was wrong, he was definitely _not_ charming or prepared enough to woo anyone yet.

 

~~~

 

“Come grab some dinner with me?” Lotor asked, glancing sideways at Shiro as they left the stables.

There’d been a hunt to stuff the palace’s pantries with meat for another week and the princess’s newest suitor - Lance? - had asked her to come along so he could show off his archery skills. Allura had then invited Lotor, citing his need for a break every now and then, and Shiro had come along as he always did when there were not at least two other royal guards within hearing distance of wherever she was or would be without him.

Now the sun was nothing but a blinding slice of summer warmth over the edge of Mount Kepatesh, bathing Sasarokepa in the dying swathes of golden daylight.

Shiro was lit up from the side, his dark hair shimmering copper and his pale skin glowing softly. He glanced over at Lotor’s question, brow pinched. “I don’t- I haven’t… made up my mind yet. About the… courting me. Thing.”

Lotor’s stomach flipped and he jerked his gaze forward, twining his hands together behind his back. “I- I didn’t mean it like that. Just-“ Damn, this hurt to say, but he’d rather it be like this then lose a chance at having Shiro’s companionship entirely. “Just as friends. If you would like to be, that is.”

“Oh.”

Lotor nodded, stomach churning. “Yes.”

“I think I’d like that,” Shiro said, giving Lotor a shy smile when he peeked over to look at him. “I don’t have many friends around here. It feels like everyone’s older than me or worships me, except for the Princess. I’d like to have a friend who’s my age and isn’t too in awe of me to speak.”

He most certainly _was_ in awe of Shiro, but probably not in the way Shiro meant, precisely. “You mean someone who can beat you,” Lotor said, attempting to smother the last of his nerves and smirking.

Shiro scoffed. “You didn’t beat me, it was a draw!”

“A draw that _you_ called for because you were too tired to continue,” Lotor said, the sick feeling in his gut dissipating completely with the way the banter lightened his heart. “That sounds a lot like giving up to me.”

“You take that back,” Shiro said, shoving at his shoulder and losing spectacularly in an obvious attempt to fight back a grin. “Heinous defamation!”

Lotor laughed, shoving back until they were grappling outside the servant’s entrance to the mess. “I’ve only said what is true, you cannot deny it!”

“Slander! Lies! I thought we were friends!” Shiro ducked under his arms and swept Lotor’s legs out from under him, sitting heavily on his chest. “Take it back!”

Lotor grunted, struggling half-heartedly to shove Shiro off of him and breathing heavily. “No!”

Shiro flopped over backwards so they lay perpendicular to each other - his ass and thighs still trapping Lotor in the dirt - and flung his arms out, panting. “I can’t believe you would treat me like this, after all we’ve been through. I don’t think I want to be friends anymore.”

“We’ve been friends for two minutes!” Lotor said, giving up on trying to remove Shiro’s substantial weight from squashing his lungs and resigning himself to a slow, agonizing death by suffocation. What a way to go.

Shiro tipped his head back and laughed, genuine and hearty and free, the skin around his eyes crinkling in a truly delightful way.

Lotor tried to fight the grin worming its way onto his face and rolled out from under Shiro’s legs when he lost, hiding his amusement. “Well, if you no longer wish to be friends I suppose I had better find someone else to dine with.” And he started walking off toward the mess entrance.

“Noooo,” Shiro called, affecting misery and reaching out an imploring hand. “Don’t leave me, Lotor!”

“Farewell, dear Shiro,” Lotor said, grasping the doorknob as he looked back over his shoulder in sadness. “Our friendship has meant the world to me, but it is time we move on.”

Shiro pulled his legs up and back, rocking most of his body up over his shoulders, and then flung himself forward and kicked up to his feet. Lotor’s mouth went dry. “No no no,” Shiro said, jogging over with his hands pressed together in supplication. “I didn’t mean it, I still want to be friends. Please eat dinner with me?”

Lotor swallowed, the memory of every muscle in Shiro’s body rippling just before he _moved_ still running through his head. “Well,” he managed, voice only rasping the _tiniest_ bit, “I suppose if you’re truly sorry I can forgive you.”

“I am, I really mean it!” Shiro said, face apologetic even though his eyes were sparkling with mirth.

“After you, then,” Lotor said, holding the door open and gesturing for Shiro to go in before him. They made their way over to the line together, filling up their plates and snagging a jug of beer to share, and headed over to an empty table on the fringes of the room by silent agreement. It wasn’t crowded - the hunting party had come back rather late - but it seemed both of them wanted to avoid having to talk with anyone else.

“So, tell me a little about yourself,” Lotor said once they’d both sat down and eaten a few bites.

“Is there anything in particular you want to know?” Shiro asked, fork halfway to his mouth and quirking a brow.

Lotor shrugged. “Whatever you’d like.”

Shiro hummed, chewing thoughtfully and pushing his food around on his plate. “I’m a Shirogane - as I’m sure you’ve already guessed - on my mother’s side.”

Lotor chuckled. “‘Shiro’ is a rather obvious giveaway.”

“It’s a family tradition at this point,” Shiro agreed, smiling. “So, yeah, Shirogane on her side, but I’m a Smythe on my father’s.”

“I’ve heard about the Smythes from Coran,” Lotor said, peeling apart a roll and slathering it with butter. “ _Far_ more than I ever wanted to.”

Shiro laughed. “That sounds like him. Coran’s my uncle, actually.”  

Lotor‘s lip quirked, wondering how there could be precisely zero family resemblance between the two, and set his knife down on the edge of his plate. “So your father took the Shirogane name?

Shiro nodded, the movement awkward as he was in the midst of taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah,” he said, once he’d swallowed. “The Smythes aren’t officially a noble family, but they’ve been close to the crown ever since my great-great grandfather became best friends with King Groggery and, later, one of his advisors. Most of his descendants have been involved with the royal family to some degree ever since so they’ve always made sure there was someone carrying on the family name. But since Coran already had that covered and my mother was the only Shirogane left my father decided to take on her name.”

“I understand,” Lotor said, nodding along. The importance placed on inheritance and maintaining bloodlines was the same among the Galra nobility, even if there was much wider variations in their blood than in Altea. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No,” Shiro shook his head. “My mother didn’t do well having me so my parents didn’t want to risk having any more. So it looks like the Shirogane line will end up dying anyway.”

Lotor frowned. “Why is that?”

“Uh…” Shiro glanced down at his plate, cheeks pinking a bit. “I don’t really- like women. Like that.”

“Not at all?” Lotor asked, brows raised in surprise.

Shiro shook his head.

“Well that’s a shame,” Lotor said, pausing when Shiro reached for his drink before continuing. “You would make beautiful children.”

Shiro choked, spraying a mouthful of beer back into his mug and looking up with scandalized eyes. “Lotor!”

Lotor threw his head back and laughed. “The Ancients, your _face!_ Oh, that was marvelous!”

Shiro snatched his napkin off the table and started mopping up spilled beer from his chin and the table. “Yes, yes, you’re hilarious. I’ll get you back for that.”

Lotor wiped at his eyes, still fighting tiny fits of giggles, and gave Shiro a smile. “I’m sorry, you’re just too easy to tease. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Just eat your dinner,” Shiro said, shaking his head and trying to frown, but his lips kept twitching and his eyes were sparkling.

“Yessir,” Lotor said, throwing out a quick Altean salute before tearing into his neglected dinner roll. “So are you close with your family?”

“Not as close as some families I’ve seen,” Shiro said, cutting into the venison on his plate, “but yeah, we spend a lot of time together and I love all of them. I don’t get to see any of them as much as I’d like anymore, but I suppose that’s part of growing up.”

Lotor hummed, wondering absently when the last time he’d even _thought_ about his parents was. “Tell me about them? I’ve only met Coran and I have the feeling he’s not an accurate example of what the rest of your family is like.”

Shiro chuckled. “No, he’s pretty unique. He and my father are twins, but Dad is really quiet, reserved. Serious and focused. The two of them adore each other, but I have no idea how they ended up so different, especially since their parents are both pretty average. I think Coran spent too much time with his grandfather.”

“Hieronymus Wimbleton, right?” Lotor asked. “I _have_ heard he was rather eccentric.”

“To put it lightly,” Shiro said, lips curved in a wry grin. “He died before I was born, but Dad says Coran is just like him.”

Lotor ate the last bite of food off his plate and pushed it aside, wiping his mouth before propping his elbow on the table and resting his chin in his hand. “What’s your mother like?”

Shiro smiled, eyes going distant. “Sweet, gentle, exceedingly kind. But she’s got a backbone stronger than steel. I never got away with anything growing up,” he said, chuckling.

Lotor smiled, charmed by Shiro’s blatant adoration. “She sounds wonderful.”

“Where do you think I got my superior personality from?” Shiro asked, grinning.

Lotor burst into giggles and shook his head. “I can’t tell if you’re bragging more about her or yourself.”

Shiro shrugged, scraping his plate with his fork and licking it clean. “It’s a mystery,” he said, piling his silverware on his plate and snagging the empty beer jug before pushing up from his chair. “Come on, I’ve got work to do but I’ll walk with you to the door.”

Lotor followed his lead, dropping off their dirty dishes at the kitchen. “I forgot to ask you earlier, but would you like to spar with me in the mornings? I haven’t found a decent opponent in the weeks I’ve been here and I’m worried I’m getting soft.”

Shiro shrugged as they headed out of the mess. “Sure. I go running first thing in the morning, but I’m usually in the training grounds by dawn.

“Wonderful,” Lotor said. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow?”

“Sounds good,” Shiro said, smiling.

Just as they were about to leave the mess and enter the inner palace, Lotor spotted an aquatic terrarium acting as a centerpiece for one of the tables and darted over to it, gently extracting the lone, single flower floating inside and jogging back over to Shiro. “Here,” he said, handing over the damp and vivid, pink blossom.

Shiro looked down at it and then back up at Lotor, brow furrowing. “I thought you said-“

“I did!” Lotor said, cutting him off. Shit, what must this look to _Shiro_ when Lotor had - barely half-an-hour ago - said that he only wanted them to eat together as friends. “I meant it. But… you seemed so pleased by the flower I gave you last time that when I saw this sitting there on the table, unappreciated and alone, I didn’t even think twice. I just thought it would make you smile and it seemed a shame to let the opportunity pass by.” He bit his lip. “Is that strange?”

Shiro stared at him for a long moment, steady and searching, before looking down at the lotus flower still in his hand. “I used to bring Allura flowers for her buttonholes, especially juniberries. She liked to smell like them.” He reached out and cupped his hands under the blossom, slipping it free of Lotor’s grip, and peered down at it with a thoughtful expression. “Sorry,” Shiro continued. “I jumped to conclusions. Giving flowers doesn’t have to be a romantic gesture, it can just be something nice to do for someone and I should have remembered that.”

Lotor breathed out, intentionally make it slow and quiet and deep, trying to relax his strained nerves. “It’s alright. I should have thought about how it would look to _you._  So I apologize as well.”

Shiro smiled at him, then again at the flower, and turned toward the door. “Thanks. I should get going, though. The Princess will be finishing her supper soon and I have to escort her back to her chambers.”

Lotor nodded, sweeping his arm out ahead of them. “Until we meet again, then.”

“See you tomorrow,” Shiro said, dipping his head in farewell and disappearing down the hallway.

Lotor staggered back a few steps and slumped against the nearest wall, tipping his head against it and shutting his eyes. He hadn’t lied to Shiro about his intentions, he really had wanted to make him smile. But he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t gone after the lotus specifically; there were plenty of other flowers scattered across the mess’s tables that he’d ignored, after all.

_Stupid. Foolish. Impulsive._

Lotor just counted himself lucky that Shiro seemed to know nothing about the language of flowers.

 

~~~

 

“Lotor!”

Lotor startled, peering around the garden for the owner of that familiar voice. It was just as dark and empty as he’d thought it was when he set out to walk through it as a shortcut back to his chambers.

“Up here,” Shiro said, drawing Lotor’s gaze up into the massive oak tree he’d stopped underneath. “Hey.”

“What are you doing up there?” Lotor asked. The light from the torches was dim out here and the moon dull and all he could make out was a vaguely human-shaped silhouette swinging its feet from a high branch. He thought he could see the shoulders shrug, but it was too dark to be sure.

“I like the view,” Shiro said, and then a shadowed hand reached out toward where Lotor was squinting up into the tree. “You should join me.”

Lotor frowned, opening his mouth to refuse before he realized: neither of his parents were around to reprimand him for dirty clothes or leaves in his hair or a general sense of un-Princely behavior. And besides, there was literally no one around to see. He grinned.

The tree was monstrous - probably as old as Altea itself, the castle built up around its stubborn, hardy roots - and even the lowest branches were only just within his reach if he jumped. Lotor leaped up and clung tight, swinging his legs up and hooking one over the nearest branch and clambering up. He worked his way up the tree, scratching his palms on the rough bark and trying to keep his hair from getting tangled in the smaller branches and leaves.

Quiznak, when was the last time he’d done this? Ten years ago? Twelve?

He came to the same level as Shiro and braced his hand against the trunk, looking out through a gap in the canopy with wide eyes. They were up above the castle walls and looking down on the west side of Sasarokepa, a sea of winking lanterns and the river glittering like starlight beyond it.

“It’s beautiful,” Lotor breathed.

Shiro hummed, twisting around to lean back against the trunk. “I had this friend when I was a kid. He was always trying to climb up here and made me come along whenever I could. He was too short to reach any of the branches but he wouldn’t let me help.” He chuckled, sweeping his hand out toward the city below them. “But even after he stopped bringing me here I had to keep coming back.”

“Did your friend ever get to see it?” Lotor asked.

Shiro shook his head. “No. He’s not from Altea and I haven’t seen him in years. I’m not sure what he’s up to, but if he ever comes back, this is the first place I’m gonna take him.”

It was Lotor’s turn to hum, quietly pleased to be learning something new about Shiro; every little piece felt like precious gems and he wanted to collect each one and hoard them in his heart.

“You haven’t told me anything about yourself, you know,” Shiro said, startling him out of his thoughts. “We’ve only talked about me.”

Lotor opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Um. What do you want to know?”

“Do you get along with your parents?” Shiro asked. “I don’t think you’ve ever even mentioned them before.”

Lotor frowned, looking back out over the lights of the city. “It’s… complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” Shiro said, quiet and reassuring.

Lotor took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for a long moment, sighing it out as slow as he could while he tried to figure out how to say what he was thinking. “My father is very… traditional. Regal. He’s very strict about the proper etiquette and social structure that the Galra Empire has built itself up with over the last few centuries. Even as a young child I feared and respected him in equal measures, but I couldn’t be fond of him, not with the way he treated anyone who behaved less than perfectly.”

“Sounds rough,” Shiro said, simple and commisserative.

Lotor hummed. “I used to want him to be proud of me, but I’ve never able to meet his expectations, never agreed with his opinions and manner of ruling and I’ve long since given up on that. I think we love each other, but no, we don’t get along.”

“What about your mom?” Shiro asked, plucking a few leaves off the tree and tearing them into strips.

“She’s brilliant,” Lotor said honestly. “A true master of Altean alchemy, but not what one would call a good mother.”

“How come?”

“She gives her work far more fondness and careful attention than she’s ever given me,” Lotor said, lips curling in a wry smile. “I’ve never resented her for it - she’s made some truly spectacular advancements and made the Empire a better place and I admire her for that. But I think Dayak - my governess - filled the role of mother in my life better than Honerva ever did.”

Shiro opened his hands, letting the shredded leaves drift down toward the ground. “Most people would sound a lot more bitter about having parents like that,” he said, glancing up at Lotor with a curious expression.

Lotor shrugged. “A few years ago I would have, too.”

“So why not anymore?” Shiro asked, crossing his legs and propping his chin in his hand and his elbow on his knee.

Lotor shrugged again, finally turning away from the view to look at Shiro directly. “I met Thace.”

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “The Lieutenant?”

Lotor nodded, sliding down to sit with his back against the trunk. “The same. I started snooping around the military training grounds not long after he became an instructor, trying to learn how to fight since Dayak had taught me all she could and my father had been putting off getting me a master for months. Thace kind of… took me under his wing, kept an eye on me and taught me the basics of swordplay in his spare time. I couldn’t get him to leave me alone after that.”

Shiro chuckled. “Somehow, I think you were rather okay with that.”

Lotor smiled, letting himself traipse back through some of his best memories. “He’s like a brother to me, protective and obnoxious and constantly nagging me about whether I got enough sleep the night before or if I’ve been eating any fruit since I saw him last or ‘when are you going to cut that ridiculous hair of yours!’” Shiro laughed and Lotor smiled along with him before his thoughts turned serious again. “He’s always there, I know I can always count on him. Meeting Thace was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I’m glad you have someone like that,” Shiro said. “I’m glad you have a friend.

“Me too,” Lotor said, barely getting the words out before his jaw cracked on a massive yawn. “Quiznak. It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

Shiro grinned. “We should probably go to bed.”

“Probably,” Lotor agreed, grinning back.

They sat there smiling at each other for a long, silly second before Shiro pushed himself up and started clambering toward the ground. “Come on, old man, you need your beauty sleep.”

“I’m less than a year older than you,” Lotor protested, being careful of where he set his feet amongst all the shadows.

“I will literally never stop teasing you about this for the rest of our lives,” Shiro said, his voice bright and cheery in the way that meant his face was split into a massive grin.

Lotor groaned, petulant and childish, loving the way it made Shiro cackle, and finally dropped down to the ground next to him. He knocked their shoulders together and headed for the palace. “You’re just jealous of how grown-up and mature I am.”

“Yes. You’re totally right. You’ve seen right through me,” Shiro said, dry as the Puigian desert.

Lotor chuckled, pausing when he spotted a bed of flowers that was just barely identifiable on the fringes of the torchlight. He bent down and snapped off a few stalks, handing half of them over to Shiro. “Here, take these.”

“What is it?” Shiro asked, touching the purple blossoms with curious fingers.

“Lavender,” Lotor said, resuming the journey into the castle. “Hang it upside to dry for a few days and then you can make it into tea or burn it in your fire at night, it’s supposed to help you sleep.”

Shiro’s expression turned mildly impressed. “Really? I’ll have to try it, then, thank you.”

Lotor nodded in acknowledgment and pocketed his own flowers as they said their goodnights and parted at the next hall. Maybe there was a second reason for him gifting that flower in particular, but if Shiro didn’t know, Lotor wasn’t going to tell him yet.

He just hoped he _would_ get the chance to, someday.

 

~~~

 

Autumn was waxing strong - the days pleasantly cool and the nights less so - when Lotor found Shiro standing at attention in the heart of one of the royal family’s private gardens. The armor of a royal guard was moulded to his frame - not as if it were made for him - as all armor was for everyone - but as if _he_ were made to wear _it,_  like he was _meant_ to achieve such prowess and prestige at so young and beautiful an age.

Lotor followed his line of site and found Allura and Lance lounging on a blanket, sharing plates of finger foods in the warm sunshine. Lance was gesturing madly, loud and boisterous as he regaled the Princess with some tale and flushing with pleasure whenever she laughed along. It was awkward and lighthearted and unbearably sweet.

Lotor sidled up beside the Princess’s bodyguard, holding a massive, yellow sunflower behind his back. “They picked a lovely day for a picnic,” he said, gazing at the couple. They were just far enough away that Lotor couldn’t quite hear what they’re saying.

Shiro’s lips quirked up in a fond smile. “He’s so awkward - and terrible at flirting, too, really terrible - but I’m glad the Princess gave him a chance. He’s been doing such a great job of wooing her.”

“How so?” Lotor asked, trying not to sound too eager, hoping there was for something he could use to sway Shiro’s impending choice over Lotor’s offer of courtship in his favor. It had been _months_ of silence on the matter and Lotor was starting to lose hope.

Shiro hummed, folding his arms across his chest. “He’s very… sincere. In everything he does for her. His flattery and romantic gestures are all totally unoriginal and cliche, but I think he really means all of it.” He shifted a bit on his feet, settling his weight on one side and tilting his head as he watched his charge and her companion.

“The Princess has had a lot of suitors,” Shiro continued, “and most of them have been in it for the prestige or familial obligations or even from the sheer arrogance that no one could be better for _them_ than a princess. And then Lance came along,” he said, shrugging. “Gangly and loud and so endearingly inept, fumbling through this courting thing and messing up every other moment - but he actually _believes_ all the flowery compliments he gives her are true and seems genuinely pleased for _her sake_ when she likes the things he does for her. I don’t think she could help but be charmed.”

Lotor hummed, hardly daring to hope that even if his nervousness _had_ been seeping through the calm and dignified exterior he’d been trying so hard to maintain whenever they spent time together that Shiro, too, found it more charming than pitiable. He had to hold back a visible wince at the thought, though, wondering if the reach of his father’s sixth sense for when Lotor acted with less than perfect decorum extended all the way to Altea’s capital. Another country was far enough, wasn’t it?

Perhaps it would simply be better not to give himself more opportunities to find out. Lotor slid the flower out from behind his back and held it in front of Shiro’s chest, gaze still firmly averted. “I just wanted to bring this to you.”

Shiro’s fingers brushed against his as they gently extracted the flower from his hand and smiled. “Why a sunflower?” he asked.

Lotor swallowed, pulling his hand away and clasping it with the other to hide the way they were shaking. “If you’d really like to know, I think Lady Silvius - the head gardener - will be able to explain it better than I,” he said, turning on his heel and walking away before Shiro could see the heat in his cheeks.

 

~~~

 

Allura was waiting for him out on the veranda overlooking the South garden, wrapped in furs to keep out the cold and curling her hands around a steaming cup of tea. “Lotor! There you are!”

Lotor slid into the seat across from her and smiled. “You’re looking as lovely as ever.”

“Oh like you can even tell with all these layers I’m in,” Allura said, wrinkling her nose. “I was hardly able to convince Shiro to let me out here at all without also wrapping a scarf over my head.”

Lotor looked over to where Shiro was standing primly at the edge of the patio, armor glinting in the sunlight and smirking.

“I am tasked with protecting you from any and all danger, Princess,” he said, his voice steady and professional even though his eyes were sparkling with mischief.

Allura shot him a _look,_  snapping her napkin out over her lap in a display of irritation. “A reddened nose is hardly a risk to my health, _Captain.”_

Lotor chuckled, gaze flitting back and forth between the two of them as the banter went on for another minute or so. He’d not seen Allura ever behave quite so childishly before. It seemed to be a particular skill of Shiro’s - coaxing out a person’s more playful, ridiculous side regardless of how calm and mature they usually were.

“See if I share my desert with you tonight,” Allura was saying, turning her nose up and refusing to look in Shiro’s direction.

“Aww, don’t be like that Princess,” Shiro said, sticking his lip out in an exaggerated pout.

Lotor grinned and reached out to pluck a couple of flowers from the vase on the table, walking over to Shiro and handing them over with a wink. “I can’t help with the desert,” he said, “but you can have these.”

Shiro flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, tentatively wrapping his hand around the stems and glancing over at Allura in obvious embarrassment.

Lotor nodded his head serenely and headed back to the table, biting back a grin at the look of absolute _glee_ on Allura’s face at Shiro’s reaction. She didn’t say anything though, just dug into the lunch that had been laid out for them and started chatting about what she’d been up to since Lotor had last visited with her.

Shiro held the flowers in his gauntleted fist the entire meal, looking down at them and flushing anew whenever he seemed to think Lotor wasn’t watching.

Lotor was definitely watching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the flower meanings were taken from the wikipediea page “Hanakotoba” - the Japanese language of flowers - if you want to look it up, but you will find out what all of them are tomorrow with the next chapter, anyway.


	3. Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro’s POV!

“So what was going on with you and Lotor at our luncheon today?” Allura asked, her grin sharp and mischievous as she looked at Shiro in the vanity mirror.

Shiro flushed, avoiding her gaze, and shifted a bit where he was leaning against the doorframe to her room. “What do you mean?”

Allura leveled him with a Look, but her lips were twitching. “Don’t try to play innocent, that adorable spread of pink across your face is a dead giveaway. You know _exactly_ what I mean.”

Shiro sighed and folded his arms a little tighter over his chest, staring down at his boots. “I don’t know, he’s just been… doing that. Sometimes.”

“Giving you flowers?” Allura asked.

“Yes,” Shiro said, looking up and meeting her curious, eager gaze. She was just pulling the last of the ribbons and gemstones from her hair and laying them gently in their proper drawers before reaching for her hairbrush. “Do you want some help with that?” he asked.

Allura smiled gratefully and nodded. “That would be lovely, thank you.

Shiro padded across the room - snatching a cushioned footstool on the way - and took the brush from her. He sat down and gathered the poofy, voluminous mass of her hair and started teasing out the tangles from the bottom up. She always had so much trouble with brushing her hair on her own - it being so long and thick and a little bit coarse - and the first time Shiro had blurted out an offer to brush it out for her had been almost on instinct after years of doing the same for his mother.

He’d always loved running his hands through the thick curtain of his mother’s alabaster tresses, the fine, silky strands slipping between his fingers like water and defying any attempts to braid or curl or style it in the Altean court fashion. She’d bemoaned its stubbornness on many occasions, but Shiro and his father had stood in solidarity in their love of it, touching it with reverence and tenderness whenever she let them.

Shiro was too busy, now, to brush his mother’s hair every night like he had as a child, but helping Allura with her own was almost as nice. The repetitive, familiar motion was soothing, calming, and her white, fluffy mane was fun to play with and coax into silly styles while Allura chattered and complained and teased and bombarded Shiro with questions about anything and everything. That first offer all those years ago, unintentional as it had been, had put them on the path to becoming friends rather than just a princess and her bodyguard.

“Sooooo?” Allura said in the present, brow quirked and eyes bright. “You were obviously quite embarrassed when Lotor gave you that flower earlier, but you hardly seemed _surprised_.”

Quiznak. He’d been hoping she would have forgotten by now. “I suppose not,” Shiro said. Hard to still be surprised after the third time or so, even if whole weeks often went by without even _seeing_ the Galra prince outside of their morning spars. “He’s done it a few times before.”

“Oh?” Allura said, lips curling. “Tell me more.”

Shiro shrugged, gathering up the bulk of her hair and cinching it at the base of her neck in his hand before running the brush through it in quick strokes to make sure all the knots were gone. “It hasn’t happened very often, only four times I think? We spar together most mornings and we… talk, hang out sometimes. Maybe flirt a little, I don’t know. He can be kind of ambiguous and… grandiloquent with his words, so sometimes I’m not always sure. And- and sometimes he gives me flowers. He says it’s just because I like them but I think he’s kind of subtly and silently repeating the question of whether I’ll let him court me.”

Allura gasped, spinning around to gape at him in playful offense. “Shiro! You mean to tell me you’ve had a suitor since the spring and I’m just hearing about it now? I thought I was your friend!”

Shiro ducked his head - pretending to concentrate on untangling a particularly troublesome knot - and nudged her around to face the mirror again. “He’s not! He asked, but I haven’t given him an answer. I just- I’m not really sure what I want to tell him so I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

He could practically _hear_ Allura’s brow furrowing. “You mean you’re not sure if you like him,” she said, more statement then question.

Shiro shook his head, pushing up to his feet so he could reach the hair around her crown and framing her face without straining his arms. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I can’t tell if he’s serious or not.”

“If I’ve learned anything about Prince Lotor these last few months,” Allura said, switching to a tone of gentle and serious reassurance with ease, “it is that he is very considerate of other people’s perspectives and feelings and needs. I don’t think he would joke about this. And... I’m almost positive he wouldn’t pursue someone he wasn’t genuinely interested in, certainly not for this long.”

“Maybe,” Shiro said, unwilling to agree. Lotor had always _seemed_ to genuinely enjoy Shiro’s company, but what would the Crown Prince of the largest and most powerful Empire in history want with _him?_

He ran the brush through Allura’s hair one last time and then leaned forward to set it on the vanity table. “I’m all done, Princess.”

Allura turned and gave him a grateful smile before rising and making her way over to the folding screen to change into her nightclothes. “Tell me the ideal scenario,” she said, voice muffled by the sound of rustling cloth, “the ideal future between the two of you. What would you want?”

Shiro hunched over his knees, running a hand through his hair and rubbing the back of his neck, thinking. “I had a dream the other night,” he said, quiet and slow, and waited for Allura’s acknowledging hum before continuing. “We were… in bed together, just laying there under the covers. We had clothes on but it still felt… _close_. Intimate. He was touching my face with his fingertips, running the pads over my cheeks and my nose and my forehead like I remember watching my dad do to my mom when I was still small enough to sleep in their bed. We… we had rings on our hands.”

Allura’s head peeked out from the screen, her gaze soft and fond. “That sounds _wonderful,_ Shiro. Perfect, even.”

Shiro felt the edge of his mouth curl up in a wry smile and he shrugged. “I just don’t even know if it’s _possible_. Maybe he’s serious about courting me now, but what if once he gets to know me better he changes his mind?”

Allura disappeared behind the screen again for a minute before emerging in her nightclothes, tying the sash of her robe tight around her waist as she walked across the room and knelt in front of him. “Shiro, what flowers has he given you?”

“Um.” He palmed the back of his neck, thinking back. “The camellias from earlier, obviously. I think the first one was an anemone. Uhh, sunflowers, some lavender, a… oh what are they called? A lotus?”

Allura reached out and gathered his hands in her small, delicate fingers, peering up at him with all the compassion and care he’d always admired her for possessing. “Shiro, I say this as a friend who cares about you deeply. You should accept his courtship, I don’t think you will regret it.”

“How can you be so sure?” Shiro asked, throat tightening.

“Do you know anything about the language of flowers?” Allura asked, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

Shiro shook his head. “My mother talks about it sometimes, but I can’t say I’ve absorbed any of it.”

Allura smiled. “To be honest, the only reason I know what I do is because I wanted to learn as much as I could about my mother’s passions. When Lotor gave you the anemones he was telling you that he was sincere, likely about his desire to court you. That’s what anemones _mean_. And the sunflowers meant respect and passion - respect and passion for the person they’re given to.”

Shiro swallowed, the tightness in his throat swelling to a lump. “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh,’” Allura said, lips quirking. “Those camellias and the lavender speak of waiting. Longing. Faithfulness. And the lotus? ‘Far from the one you love.’” Allura squeezed his hand. “Shiro, he’s been waiting for you - patiently, quietly, respectfully - letting you take as much time as you needed to decide. But he hasn’t changed his mind about you.”

It was like the world had shifted under his feet, throwing all his memories with Lotor into a new perspective. “I know I like him. And maybe he likes me, too. I’m just afraid of getting my hopes up for nothing, that once he knows more I won’t be what he wants.”

“I once asked my father why he courted my mother when he knew that she was sick, knew that she wouldn’t get better,” Allura said, looking down at their hands. “He told me that he knew that any amount of time spent with her would make his life brighter, more fulfilling as a whole, even if there would be grief too. The light and happiness she gave him for those too-short years was _worth_ experiencing.”

Shiro dropped his eyes to where their hands were tangled together, too - pale ivory and rich brown; large and calloused and small and soft - and swallowed thickly. He and Lotor - they weren’t even any kind of _thing_ yet, so how did it matter so _much_ already? Why did he want it and _fear_ it so fiercely?  

“Shiro,” Allura said, ducking down to get in his line of sight. “Say ‘yes’ to him. Take the risk. Won’t any amount of happiness he brings you be worth it?”

Shiro took a deep breath and let it back out again, slow and deep, and let himself think about Lotor’s question and how he wanted to answer it seriously for the first time in months, since he’d first looked at Lotor and thought _I want him_ and reared back from the thought in animalistic fright.

They’d been spending more and more time together for months, sparring almost every morning, meeting for meals whenever they were both free, chatting in the hall in passing on their way to their own duties. Every time Lotor spotted him, his eyes lit up; every time he’d given Shiro a flower he’d fidgeted with nerves, despite how hard he’d obviously been trying to hide it; every time they’d met he’d become more relaxed, more free, more _himself_ , losing the rigid formality of a Galra noble. He wouldn’t do all of that with just anyone, would he? Even a good friend?

Shiro peeled his unseeing eyes away from their tangled hands and looked back up at Allura, searching her face. “You really think he means it? That he’s serious about me?”

“ _Yes,”_ Allura said, squeezing his hands. “I’d bet you a hundred GAC he cries in relief when you say yes.”

Shiro barked a laugh, pulling a hand free to run it through his hair. “I don’t know about that.” He ran the hand back up over his head and down his face, sucking in a deep, steadying breath and letting it out again. “Thank you, Princess. I don’t know if you’re right, but I think I’d like to give it a try.”

“You’ll say ‘yes?’” Allura asked, eyes brightening.

Shiro nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I have to apologize to all of you now. This _does_ have one final chapter but I couldn’t figure out a way to make it fit into any of the other prompts for Shotor Week, so you have to wait until the free! day on Sunday for the rest of this.


	4. Free Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, guys. I am so embarrassed. This was supposed to go up on Sunday and it’s now Thursday and I am _so. sorry_. *facepalm* *facepalm* *facepalm*

Shiro found Lotor standing at the balustrade on the west wall of the palace just after sunset a few days later, watching the sky deepen and peering up at the emerging stars. His breath fogged the air in front of him, a pale, transient mist in the dim light, and Shiro sidled up next to him and rested his elbows on the wall.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Shiro said, keeping his voice low and soft.

Lotor hummed quietly in agreement, but didn’t look away from the sky.

Shiro exhaled, stomach churning and held out the flower he’d brought with him - a rich, blue iris that had taken an hour to hunt down what with all the snow blanketing the ground. “This is for you,” he said.

Lotor finally looked down, eyeing the flower with cautious curiosity, but made no move to take it.

Shiro stared down at the flower avoiding Lotor’s gaze. If he tried to _watch_ his reaction to what Shiro was about to say he’d probably vomit. “I know it’s been a long time,” he started, talking slow and making sure he got the words out right. “Since you first asked to court me, I mean. And I’m sorry for that. I just-“ He paused, biting his lip and struggling _again_ with how to phrase it exactly. “I was just really interested in _you,_ but I couldn’t see how you could feel that way about _me_. I didn’t know if you were serious and that terrified me. But,” and here, finally, Shiro worked up the nerve to look up, knowing if he didn’t do it then he’d never be able to, “if you still want to. I’d love for you to court me.”

It was silent for a long moment, agonizingly so. Shiro resisted the urge to look away or fidget, knuckles white around the stem of the iris and cheeks slowly heating in embarrassment. Maybe Lotor hadn’t been serious, or maybe he’d given up and moved on a long time ago and just wanted to be friends now. Maybe he was trying not to laugh at Shiro’s foolishness. Maybe he should just quietly apologize and leave before the silence became even more unbearable than it already was.

And Lotor’s eyes began to fill with tears.

Shiro’s eyes widened. “Lotor? What’s wrong?”

Lotor’s lip quivered, tears spilling free, and he covered his eyes with his hand. “Sorry,” he said, his voice watery and weak. “I’m sorry. I was just- I was so afraid you’d turn me down. It had been so long and you’d seemed to have forgotten and-“ he cut himself off and inhaled shakily, scrubbing at his face with his sleeve. “I’m just so _happy_ ,” he said, finally looking up and smiling so wide and relieved and _beautiful_ that Shiro kind of wanted to kiss him.

Scratch that, he _really_ wanted to kiss him.

But that would be a bit forward so he settled for reaching up to thumb away Lotor’s tears. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” he said again.

Lotor shook his head, placing his hand over Shiro’s and nuzzling into it - _quiznak_ , that was cute. “It’s alright,” Lotor whispered, closing his eyes and smiling. “And… thank you.”

“What for?” Shiro asked, just as softly, stroking his thumb over the soft skin of his cheek.

“For saying yes,” Lotor said. “The more time I’ve spent with you over these last months the more I wanted you, the more I cared about you. I’m so happy right now I’m afraid it’s all just a dream.”

Shiro chuckled, cupping his hands under Lotor’s jaw. “ _I’m_ the one who’s dreaming. Have been since the first time you hit on me. I mean, come on, the Crown Prince of the Galra interested in _me?_ ”

“You are _magnificent_ ,” Lotor said, opening his fearsome, flashing eyes. “Breathtaking. Anyone who’s made you think otherwise is a fool.”

Shiro grinned, cheeks flushing in pleased embarrassment. “You’re not so bad yourself, I guess,” he said, shrugging.

Lotor laughed, high and breathless and bright, and held the back of his hand to his forehead. “Such eloquent flattery. Be ready to catch me, I may swoon.”

Shiro leaned forward and rested their foreheads together, giggling helplessly. “You’re ridiculous, can I keep you for a while?”

“Forever,” Lotor breathed, and then inhaled sharply, stiffening in place.

Shiro rushed to wrap his arms around Lotor’s back and yank him into a hug, keeping him from fleeing or taking back that glorious, perfect word. “Sounds good to me,” he whispered, pressing his nose into Lotor’s chilly neck.

Lotor’s next inhale was shaky, weak, but then he sank into Shiro’s chest with a deep, heavy sigh. “Me too,” he whispered back, snarling his hands in Shiro’s cloak and clinging tight.

Shiro still wasn’t sure that this thing between them would turn out okay - it wasn’t like his fear was completely gone and it probably wouldn’t be for a long time yet - but as he held Lotor close and felt himself warming up from the tips of his toes to his flushed and reddened cheeks, he figured they were off to a pretty good start.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](https://zacekova.tumblr.com/).


End file.
